Left 4 Dead: When I'm Gone
by Nobreiner
Summary: When Tom found the survivors, he considered himself lucky to be alive. Now, he isn't sure whether he'd be better off dead. Zoey/OC
1. Crossing the Street

Chapter 1:

It was nearly pitch black out as I made my way down the alley towards the pile of bodies ahead of us, the product of our most recent skirmish with the Infected. As we made our way forward, I began to reload my 30-30 lever action rifle, my weapon of choice, but was interrupted by a raspy, "Hold up." Bill, the grizzled namvet and our de-facto leader, was the source of the command, kneeling down and clenching a fist. As we stopped walking and began scanning the area for signs of danger, Bill knelt down beside one of the corpses and dipped his fingers in a green liquid pooling around it, before lifting it up to examine it more closely. "Ain't seen anything like this before..."

To this, Francis, our resident biker and general jackass, said, "Jesus, don't let that stop you from smearing it all over yourself." Bill scowled, and stood up, before wiping the liquid on Francis' beloved vest. "Argh, dammit Bill!" Francis grunted angrily, attempting to remove the viscous fluid, before recoiling, "Ooh it stinks!"

Louis, our group's technical expert and optimist, and I chuckled appreciatively in response, but were interrupted as a low, mournful moan cut through the air. After a moment, I realized it was the sound of a woman crying. We all turned to its source, the closed door five feet away from us. Our group's youngest member, and also one year my junior, Zoey was the first to speak. "Someone's still alive..." She said warily. Bill looked our group over before turning to the doorway and signaling Zoey and I to follow. Bill slowly pushed the door open, revealing the building to be shrouded in darkness. "Over there." Bill said, motioning into the shadows.

Zoey flicked on her pistol's attached flashlight, and the three of us began to creep into the building. As we made our way forward, Zoey's flashlight began to illuminate more of the room; she called out, "Hello... Hello?" Zoey then swept her light forward, revealing the silhouette of a hunched over, sobbing figure. "It's okay," Zoey continued. "We're going to-"

Suddenly a flash of Lightning completely illuminated the room, and exposed the entirety of our 'damsel.' It was in that short moment that I realized she wasn't human. She was pale, deathly pale, with light gray skin and snow-white hair. She was clad in what looked like a torn tank top and panties, also colored gray. Her eyes were glowing red and lacked pupils or irises, giving her a demonic appearance. What really grabbed my attention, though, were her hands. Each finger ended in a long, bloodstained claw, the size of a kitchen knife.

Upon seeing the creature, Bill rushed forward and pushed Zoey's gun down, muttering urgently, "Lights! Off!" With that, we lapsed into silence, studying the infected sitting in front of us, as it continued to sob uncontrollably.

As we continued to watch the crying, hunched infected before us, I took in more of her odd behavior. All other infected I had seen had attacked us immediately upon noticing us, this one, however, seemed content to simply sit there moaning and weeping. I was interrupted from my thoughts as a shotgun blast pierced the silence, followed by a progressively louder cry of "Oh shit. Shit. Shiiit! SHIT!" Zoey, Bill, and I whipped around as Louis appeared in the doorway, screaming "They're COMING!" and waving his flashlight, before coming to rest on the Infected's face. Immediately the crying infected's expression broke into a feral snarl, as her eyes flashed a dangerous crimson and a howl escaped her throat.

As Louis responded to the infected's threat with a shocked "What the!" Zoey immediately took action, turning to him and screaming, "Run like Hell!" before leaping to her feet and rushing out the door, Bill and I following closely behind.

Once we emerged back into the alley, Bill quickly pivoted around and faced the now charging infected woman, pumping two rounds of his assault rifle into her before slamming the door. As Bill, Zoey and I moved to assist Francis with the oncoming horde, Louis quickly rushed forward, bracing himself against the door as the infected woman threw her weight into it, resulting in a large thud and causing Louis to grimace from the pressure. Not a second later a large claw erupted from the door, the infected having torn a hole in it in one swipe. Louis leapt back from the door, spraying through the hole with his Uzi. The Infected seemed to ignore the bullets piercing its flesh, as the arm continued to thrash about, narrowly missing Louis a few times, as the latter began shouting, "Do you like THAT!" while pressing his Uzi's muzzle up against the hole.

Finally, the infected woman released one last mournful wail, as the flailing arm went limp, allowing Louis to quickly move up to assist us in dealing with the large crowd of zombies sprinting toward us. As we continued to mow down the oncoming infected, Francis shouted over the din, "Stick together!" No sooner had he finished that sentence, than Bill was suddenly yanked away from an unseen force. I whipped around to find Bill suspended in the air by some sort of long purple rope. Casting my gaze upward I discovered that Bill wasn't entangled in a rope, it was a creature's tongue! Rushing forward, I quickly brought my sights up on the tongue, and followed it up to its source, a tall, lanky, tumor-covered zombie who was coughing violently, gasping out a cloud of green smoke with each wheezing breath.

Without hesitating I trained my sights on the creature's head and squeezed the trigger. The round flew from my rifle smacked into the creature's forehead, blowing its brains out and causing it to explode in a cloud of acrid green smoke, dropping Bill in the process. Rushing forward, I knelt by Bill and coaxed him to his feet. Once he seemed to be able to get up on his own, I stood up and whipped my rifle in the direction of one approaching zombie, giving it a quick shot to the chest, downing it. Suddenly I heard a loud bang, followed by a screech of pain behind me. Twisting sharply, I saw that one zombie had rushed up from behind me, only for Francis to blow it away with his shotgun. Flashing me a grin, Francis quipped, "Merry Christmas" before returning his attention to the incoming horde, Bill and I following shortly after.

I lined my sights up on an infected's head, squeezing the trigger and sending a round into its skull, before sighting up on the next one. Together, we mowed down dozens of zombies, but they continued to press into the alleyway, screeching and hollering as our bullets tore them apart. As we were about to be overwhelmed, I began to hear a loud beeping noise from behind me. Looking back, I saw Zoey, clutching a lit pipe bomb in one hand, cocked and ready to throw.

"Fire in the hole!" She shouted, before launching the pipe bomb over our heads and into the teeming horde. The beeping lights attached to the top -gutted from a fire alarm courtesy of Louis- caught the infected's attention and sent them into a frenzy. Every one of the zombies threw themselves at the device, clawing at it uselessly as the fuse slowly burned down. I ducked behind a dumpster as the beeping's pace increased, eventually becoming one long note before being punctuated with an enormous explosion, reducing the surrounding infected into a red mist.

Louis, who had been too late to get into cover, stumbled forward, before gazing skyward, a look of dawning hope crossing his face. Following his gaze, I looked up to see a helicopter, the words "CHANNEL 5 NEWS" proudly emblazoned on its side.

Louis immediately took off running, shouting, "Heyyy! Down here! We're not infected! DOWN HEEERE!" I leapt to my feet, chasing after him. _That idiot! _I thought venomously, _He's gonna get himself killed running off like that! _I burst out of the alleyway to find Louis standing in the middle of the street, the helicopter continuing past the many buildings in the area. "Dammit!" Louis cursed, staring off at the helicopter's retreating form.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of stones hitting pavement. I instinctively jerked my head in the direction of the noise, in time to see a few loose stones falling to the ground. Casting my gaze upward, I saw that hanging from the edge of the rooftop was a shadowy, hooded figure. Looking back at Louis, I realized what was about to happen.

I don't recall when I started running for Louis, and I don't recall tackling him out of the way. All I can remember is that I'm suddenly pinned under this hooded monstrosity, pain flaring up in my back from the hard contact with the pavement. A smothering weight was on my legs, preventing me from so much as kicking them. My nose was assaulted with a putrid stench, a cross between rotting flesh and animal musk. The only thing I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, as the creature's claws came down, and a burst of agony worse than I've ever experienced ripped through my stomach. The creature retracted its now bloodstained claws, before lunging forward in an attempt to bite my face. I instinctively threw a hand up to defend myself, then grunted in pain as the creature sank it teeth into my wrist. I quickly brought my fist up, smashing it into the creature's face repeatedly; punctuating each blow with a curse, "Get... Off... Me... You stupid... Sonova... BITCH!"

Suddenly, the oppressive weight of the creature was gone, and the sound of my thundering heart was being overtaken by the sound of gunshots cracking the air, the stench replaced by that of gunpowder. I weakly turned my head, to find the creature on its feet, jerking back as bullets thudded into its chest. Suddenly, the forms of Louis and Zoey entered my vision; Zoey emptying both pistols into the creature as Louis pumped single shots from is own sidearm into the creature's shoulders, before scoring a perfect headshot. The creature fell back, dead before it hit the ground -or in this case, before it hit the car- and set off the alarm. The car's blaring horn cut through the silence of the night, only interrupted by the howl of an approaching horde. Bill, who had just now caught up along with Francis, muttered, "Oh, this is gonna get bad."

Zoey came over to me, gently coaxing me to my feet, saying, "Tom, I know you're hurt, but we gotta get you on your feet. We'll patch you up soon, okay? Can you walk?" I nodded weakly, and joined the others in forming a defensive circle, as the horde rushed in from all sides. I slowly began to raise my rifle, then hissed in pain as a burning sensation ran up my arm. I was too injured to aim. Groaning, I slung my rifle over my shoulder and drew my sidearm, a .357 nickel-plated revolver. Cradling my injured arm to my chest, I raised the revolver in my good hand, ready to pick off any approaching infected. Suddenly, a roar unlike any other infected I'd heard cut through the night, and a car was sent sailing past us and into the fence, causing all of us with the exception of Francis to flinch. We all turned to find the source of the noise, only to come face to face with the worst abomination I'd seen since this infection started.

It was built like a Tank, a seven-foot-tall mass of teeming muscle. It's arms were disgustingly large, accounting for almost all of its height, and seemed to support it in a gorilla-type fashion. Its face was deformed, leaving its lower jaw almost nonexistent. Louis began slowly backing away from the beast, muttering, "Run, or shoot." Getting no response, he asked again, urgently, "Run or shoot!"

"Both!" Bill barked, as we leapt into action. We immediately took off down an alleyway, Bill and I clearing the way ahead as Francis, Louis, and Zoey mowed down the infected trailing after us. As we rounded the corner I spotted a fire escape leading to the roof of a nearby building, a sanctuary from the teeming horde. "Get to the roof!" Louis shouted redundantly. As Bill moved up to clear the area ahead of the fire escape, Francis stopped at the ladder, before turning to face the pursuing behemoth. "Come on. Come on!" Francis challenged, before unloading his shotgun into the approaching Tank. Unfortunately, this didn't faze the behemoth, and he brought a massive fist forward, slamming Francis into the brick wall of the alleyway. Hearing Francis' groan of pain, Bill turned, and together we began blasting the Tank, peppering its form with bullets, and drawing its attention from Francis. Bill advanced on the Tank, spraying it with bullets until it made to attack him, swinging its arm in a large arc towards the old man. Seeing this, I adjusted my aim as best I could and fired a single shot, the last in the chamber. It flew into the creature's temple, failing to penetrate its thick skull but succeeding in distracting it long enough to allow Bill to duck under its arm. The Tank, overbalanced from this blow, crashed through the wall of the alley, before rising from the rubble, ripping a boulder from the debris and launching it toward the fire escape. It missed us, thankfully, though Francis had to dodge to avoid it. Bill turned back to the ladder, in time to see an infected's head explode in front of him. As I made my way up the ladder, I heard Zoey shout, "GO! I'll hold them off!"

Francis, Louis, and I made it to the roof, and I turned to help Bill climb up as well, while Zoey continued to fire on the Tank as it scaled the fire escape. Seeing the platform begin to crumple under the Tank's weight I rushed forward. Zoey had lost one pistol from the Tank shaking the ledge she had been on, and was now forgoing shooting the Tank in favor of making for the edge of the roof. Suddenly, the entire fire escape collapsed, the Tank plummeting to its death four stories below, with Zoey about to follow. Instinctively I rushed forward and threw myself to my stomach on the edge of the roof, extending a hand in her direction as she shouted, "TOM!" Too late I realized I had extended my injured arm, as Zoey gripped my hand tightly, jerking my arm as her weight yanked me forward, and nearly off the ledge. This also elicited another reaction from me, one I did not expect: a sharp, inhuman yelp, sounding all the world like a dog being struck. Ignoring this disturbing realization, I reached my good arm forward to support Zoey's grip, as Francis stepped forward and assisted me in slowly pulling her up to the roof.

After finally succeeding in pulling the shell-shocked Zoey up to the roof, I fell back, panting in exhaustion. Louis suddenly spoke up, giddily exclaiming, "We made it. I can't believe we made it!" The celebration was cut short, however, as Bill countered, "Son, we just crossed the street." He paused to flick away his spent cigarette butt before replacing it with a fresh one, "Let's not throw a party until we're out of the city." With that he got to his feet, and made his way to a table loaded with fresh ammo and weapons.

Sighing, I laid back and settled on reaching into my pocket to retrieve my iPod, scrolling through the tracks before finally settling on War by Poets of the Fall. Leaning my head back, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, allowing the music to take me away from the horror of my surroundings.

_Do you remember standing in a broken field,_

_White crippled wings beating the sky?_

_The Harbingers of war with a nature revealed,_

_And our chances flowing by?_

The rest of the song was lost to me as my vision was consumed by darkness.


	2. The Apartments

Chapter 2:

I felt myself being jostled awake as my senses came flooding back. The first one to arrive was a stinging pain in my wrist, reminding me to get that bandaged as soon as possible. The second, a chill that, while not uncommon in this weather, seemed unnatural given the thick hoodie I was wearing. Finally, a strange sensation in my legs, like a burning pain gained from a severe workout. I opened my eyes slowly, showing me that it was Zoey who had woken me up. She looked concerned, one hand on my shoulder and the other clutching her remaining pistol. Behind her I spotted the others, Louis giving me a look of concern while Bill and Francis were rooting through the table littered with supplies. I felt a slight shake in my shoulder and realized that Zoey had asked me a question, my fading into consciousness having blocked it out.

"What?" I asked blearily, lifting a hand up to clutch my now pounding head.

"I said are you okay? We lost you for a minute there." She then directed her gaze to my arm, noticing the bloodstained cuff of my sweatshirt, and asked, "What's that, were you hurt?" She then reached up to grasp my arm, but I tugged it away, wincing at the sudden movement, before replying, "I'm fine, just grazed my arm on the scaffold."

I don't know why I lied, but the words were out of my mouth before I could think. Zoey seemed unconvinced, but didn't pursue the subject. Instead, she took out a medkit, and cracked the zipper open, saying, "Well alright, but you still need to be patched up. That jumping one cut you up pretty bad. Let me see."

She moved forward again, but I stopped her, snatching the medkit away, "I can do it." I said quickly, before getting slowly to my feet. Despite the burning pain, my legs weren't weak. To the contrary, it felt as though I had toned the muscles in my sleep, the pain having faded way to nothing within moments. Zoey cocked an eyebrow at my reaction, but simply nodded and went to the table to gather supplies with Bill and Francis.

Louis then stepped forward, saying, "Hey man, I just wanted to say thanks for saving my ass back there. That thing would have torn me a new one if it weren't for you." I smiled, and turned to Louis, saying, "It was nothing, just don't expect me to take a beating for you every time you run off like an idiot." We shared a laugh, before Louis' frowned, "Are you sure you're okay? It looked like that Hunter got you pretty bad." I looked at him confused. "Hunter?" I questioned, cocking an eyebrow of my own. Louis shrugged, and said, "I don't know, man. Did you see that thing? Hunter just seems to fit."

I thought back to the creature, how it had stalked Louis, waiting for the moment to strike. "Yeah." I breathed, looking away. Louis, sensing the conversation was over, nodded and walked away to join the others. Once I was certain that all eyes were away from me, I turned my back on them, before slowly and painfully pulling up the arm of my sweatshirt. One glance at the wound was enough to know it was bad. Already it was turning a sickly shade of yellow, all except for the center, which was a deep crimson. I quickly retrieved some gauze from the medkit, wrapping it around the wound until it was hidden from view.

Satisfied that my bite was hidden, I snipped the end off the gauze and tied the bandage tight. I then removed my sweatshirt and the long-sleeved shirt beneath. Looking down at my chest, I gasped. The Hunter, as Louis had called it, had torn several long (but thankfully shallow) gashes across my chest. What shocked me was that the gashes were also a putrid-looking yellow. I stole a glance back at the others, but they were thankfully distracted sorting through the ammo, allowing me to quickly bandage my chest without them noticing my wounds.

Slipping my clothes back on I grabbed my rifle and headed towards the table. As I approached Francis looked up at me and let out a chuckle. "So, Sleeping Beauty's ready to join us huh?" He quipped snidely. I calmly flipped him the bird, which only seemed to make his grin wider, before beginning to root through the piles of shells. Any 30-30s and .357s I claimed for myself, knowing that the others used neither type of ammunition. Bill claimed the 5.56mm rounds for his rifle, Louis the 9mm, and Zoey the .45 caliber rounds, while Francis took any 12-gauge shells for himself. After a few minutes, the pile was empty, save for a few 20 gauge shells, some .44 magnum bullets, and, amazingly, a 40mm grenade. Francis had wanted to take the thing with us, but Bill had argued about the extra weight, as well as the impossible odds of finding a compatible launcher.

Fully loaded, we began to make our way towards the door into the building whose roof we were on, but stopped as a familiar chopping sound cut through the air. Looking up, we saw that the helicopter had returned, and was now flying among the buildings, as a megaphone blasted the message, "To anyone who can hear this, proceed to Mercy Hospital for evacuation! Repeat, proceed to Mercy Hospital for evacuation!" It then flew off, no doubt to spread its message elsewhere.

"Well, we now have a destination." Bill said, before looking towards the center of town, where Mercy Hospital could clearly be seen towering over all surrounding buildings in the area. Louis looked contemplative for a moment, before proclaiming, "The Red Line should take us straight to Mercy Hospital." Knowing Louis' knack for the inner systems of the city, we nodded as a group, and moved toward the door.

It opened up into a staircase leading into the building, with a single infected at the base of the stairs. Without hesitating Bill lifted his rifle, pumping a single round into the zombie's skull before it could react, as he thundered down the stairs, the rest of us in tow. The stairs opened up into a dingy looking kitchen, and I realized we were in an apartment building. In the adjacent living room were six infected, and Francis managed to blow away one with his shotgun before we were spotted. As soon as the shotgun blasted the unfortunate infected however, the others immediately reacted, throwing themselves at us with single-minded fury. As one we all raised our weapons and fired, each of us cutting down an infected before they got within reach of us. As the last infected fell to the floor, courtesy of a trio of bullets from Louis, we proceeded to the next flight of stairs.

This soon led us to a similar apartment, except for the gaping hole in the kitchen wall leading to the next room. Around it was a cluster of five infected, which we quickly cut down. Jumping through the hole, we then moved into the next room, a kitchen similar to the previous two, except now the entire floor was missing from it. We cautiously crept up to the hole, and I moved forward to look inside. There, at the bottom of the hole, was a pile of bodies. At least ten corpses, all spread out around the room.

Fighting the urge to retch, I turned towards the others, and said, "Looks like this is the only way down, but I think that's the ground floor." The others nodded, and we stepped up to the edge of the hole. Louis and Francis jumped down first, and once they were clear, Zoey and I followed. I leapt from the edge, carefully landing so as not to slip on one of the bodies, and looked over to see Zoey had managed to land successfully as well. Suddenly, a strong odor assaulted my senses, and I wrinkled my nose in disgust. The smell was awful, like cigarettes mixed with mold and decaying flesh. Then, we heard a loud yell from above us, and I caught sight of Bill's boot disappearing from the ledge before he was gone completely. "Bill!" I shouted, hoping he had only slipped, but received no answer, only the sound of something heavy being dragged.

Instinctively I coiled my legs and leapt upward, reaching towards the ledge so I could haul myself up. What I did not expect was to shoot up like a rocket, clearing the ledge and landing heavily on the floor, one story up. Dazed from the landing, I marveled at my own ability. I had jumped ten feet straight up! I had no time to dwell on my newfound abilities, however, as I heard a muffled yell, as well as a hacking cough.

I rose to my feet and sprinted toward the noise, screwing my nose up in disgust as the odor became progressively worse. I followed the sounds around a corner, and found my goal.

Thrashing about in front of me were two figures. One, the cursing, punching form of Bill. The other, a familiar tall, lanky figure, wrapped in green smoke with an absurdly long tongue, which was currently wrapped around Bill's chest, squeezing like a python. I quickly brought my rifle to bear, but Bill's frantic motions caused him to constantly block my shot. "Damn it." I cursed, before slipping my rifle back in its sling. I advanced on the struggling pair, and drew my switchblade from my pocket, flicking it open with practiced ease. I quickly circled around Bill and the Infected, searching for an opening in the thrashing mass. Finally, I saw one. Bill had finally managed to pull away from the creature, and its tongue was pulled taut between the two. I rushed forward and brought the blade down hard on the rope-like protrusion, stabbing it to the hilt in the purple flesh. The Infected gave a gasp of pain, and instinctively reared back, its slackening tongue dropping Bill in the process. Seizing this opportunity I drew my revolver and centered it on the Creature's head, then pulled the trigger.

Immediately I recognized my mistake, as the Infected erupted in a cloud of acrid green smoke. The smell that had been strong before was overpowering now, and I quickly fell to the ground gasping. Bill lay on his hands and knees beside me, drawing in as much air as he could get through the smoky haze, as I slowly pulled myself to my feet. Stumbling over to Bill I grasped the tongue of the creature. It was slimy, like a great purple snake, and strangely warm. Fighting back revulsion, I gave it a good yank, and the tongue slid off, falling to the floor in a tangled heap. Bill, now free from the tongue's burden, slowly got to his feet, sucking in large lungful's of air between coughs. Bracing myself against the wall, I fought to catch my breath as the smoke slowly dissipated.

Finally, the air was clear, and after getting a fresh breath in my lungs, I looked up to find that Bill had instead lapsed into a coughing fit. Making my way back over to him I gave him a hard slap on the back, helping him expel the last of the noxious gas from his lungs. Now free of the toxic smoke, Bill took in a great shuddering breath, gulping at the air greedily until his breathing returned to normal. When we'd both managed to recover, he looked up to me and muttered "Thanks, kid." I smiled, and replied, "No problem, but lets avoid those things next time, they seem to like you." We chuckled, and I stepped over to the corpse of the creature, yanking my knife from its tongue and wiping it on the zombie's ragged jeans before clicking it shut and pocketing it.

We then proceeded back around the corner and to the hole, Bill retrieving his gun from where it had fallen on the way. As we approached the hole, I caught sight of Francis, Zoey, and Louis waiting at the bottom. Upon seeing us, grins appeared on each of their faces. Louis cheered, Zoey let out a breath she must have been holding since I left, and Francis gave an approving nod.

Bill jumped down the hole first this time, and I followed quickly, before any other surprises could show up. Zoey walked up to us, relief and worry framing her features, and said, "What happened? Are you two alright?" I gave her a (hopefully) reassuring smile, and replied, "Yeah Bill got snatched by another one of those long-tongued things." I paused, before adding, "We really should come up with a name for them." Francis stepped forward, grinning, and said, "How about Smokers? They seem to love Bill." He threw a sneer at the veteran, who responded with a simple "Shut up Francis." I pondered the name for a moment, before nodding, "Actually that kinda fits, but anyway the Smoker grabbed Bill, so I jumped up and got him." Louis cocked an eyebrow at me, before saying, "Yeah, man how did you do that, anyway? You jumped a whole floor like it was nothing!" I winced, as the others turned to look at me as well. Bill was confused, having been "preoccupied" at the time. Zoey looked worried, all relief gone from her face and replaced by a curious anxiety. Louis looked genuinely curious, one eyebrow raised and his head cocked slightly to the side. Francis, however, was leering at me. He looked almost... accusing? I scanned each of their faces for a moment longer. I gulped, my throat suddenly dry.

"Um. I don't know, Adrenaline?" I suggested weakly, shrugging as noncommittally as I could.

They didn't buy it.

"You're expectin' me to believe that you could jump _ten feet in the air_ off an adrenaline rush?" Francis growled, fixing me with a dark, piercing stare. I instinctively shrank back in response. "Um... Yeah?" Francis scoffed, and leaned in close to me, "Why don't you tell us what's really goin' on." He growled, his face inches from mine. I suddenly got a whiff of his breath, and fought the urge to gag. It smelled like stale beer and gunpowder, as if he'd been eating shotgun shells.

The odor vanished, however, as Francis was pulled away by Bill, who stepped between us, glaring at each of us in turn. "Jesus Christ, is now really the time? We can argue about this when we aren't fighting for our lives."

Francis looked ready to argue, but upon seeing the warning in the old man's expression he backed off, shooting me a glare before turning to the others. "Fine. Let's get to the safe house." He pushed past them, towards a large hole in the wall that led to the apartment's exit. The others gave me a quick glance, then followed.

I stood there for a moment, pondering the significance of what had just occurred. Francis was right, I had jumped ten feet in the air. No amount of natural stimulant could produce that. I glanced down at my legs, finally allowing the burning sensation they had been giving off to pierce my consciousness. It felt similar to the burn I felt after working out in a gym, an admittedly rare occurrence for me. I shrugged absentmindedly. Whatever it was, it helped me save Bill, so it couldn't be too bad. I drew my rifle, cocked it, and moved to follow the others.

We made our way through a destroyed wall and back out into the alley we had been fighting through previously. The Tank's corpse lay where it had fallen, a sizable crater surrounding it. Francis sauntered over to the corpse and placed his shotgun's barrel against its forehead, before pulling the trigger.

I jumped along with Zoey and Louis as the Tank's head exploded in a shower of gore. Francis turned back to us and, noting our shocked expressions, huffed, "What?" He said incredulously. "With that thing, it's best to make sure its dead, don't want it coming back to pound us later." Bill, of all people, nodded in agreement, before motioning us to follow him as he advanced through the alley.

We got lucky, and only a few infected populated the alleyway, allowing us to make our way through it with ease. At the end of the alley sat a parked police cruiser, a single pistol lying on its hood, and an unfortunate officer painting the front seats and windshield. Walking up to the car, Bill took the pistol, checked its magazine, and, satisfied, turned to Zoey, offering it to her. She accepted it gratefully, and Bill nodded once in response. He then shouldered his rifle and took the lead as the alleyway opened up onto the main street.

The street was in horrible disrepair. Fires were scattered along the buildings and road, most likely caused by the nearby crashed tanker truck, and corpses were scattered everywhere. Thankfully though, most of the lingering infected were behind a thick metal barricade that had been set up to our left, leaving only a few lingering infected to mill about the area. If we were careful, the infected on the other side wouldn't notice us as we dispatched their fellows, and even if they did, the time it took for them to climb the fence would give us the option to simply run for it. We moved down the street as one unit, Francis now at the head, ready to blast any infected that got within range, while Bill and I took up the sides, picking off any infected that happened to look in our direction. The gunshots did attract some attention, but what infected did react were quickly cut down by Zoey and Louis, who were bringing up the rear.

As we turned the corner, we finally spotted it, the subway station. It was lit up like a beacon of hope, illuminating the glorious image of a safehouse signal emblazoned on the walls of the stairs. Every member of our group let out a simultaneous sigh of relief, and we quickened our pace, dispatching any infected that got in our way.

As we made our way forward, I caught sight of a lone infected stumbling about near a parked car. Francis stopped and raised his shotgun to eliminate it, when I made a discovery that made my blood run cold. The car was alarmed, a softly pulsing red light revealing its hidden threat. "Francis don't-" I was too late. Francis pulled the trigger, sending a load of buckshot flying towards the infected, and the car as well. I clamped my eyes shut, awaiting the inevitable wail of the alarm. I cracked one eye open, then widened both in surprise. Francis' shot had sheared off the top of the now teetering infected's head, the rest of the shot having gone over the car, missing it. I looked to Francis, who gave me a smug grin. "What?" He said in a mock-offended tone. "Did you really think I'm stupid enough to shoot an alarmed car? Give me some credit."

His smug grin disappeared as a piercing siren broke the air; the now alerted infecteds' wails barely surpassing it. I looked to the car, to see that the brainless infected had finally toppled over, right onto the hood of the now shrieking car. We all turned to Francis, who was now smiling sheepishly. "You're right, Francis." Louis began, his voice almost vibrating with suppressed rage. "I will give you credit, for getting us all killed!" Francis only shrugged helplessly in response, as we all turned to meet the horde of infected now sprinting toward us.

Bill and Louis were the first to act, raising their guns and firing in wide arcs to mow down as many infected as possible. Francis and Zoey lifted their weapons and dealt with any infected that threatened to get close, Zoey peppering them with pistol bullets, Francis simply blowing them away with blasts from his shotgun. I took a deliberate step back from the group, and raised my rifle to pick off infected toward the back of the horde. With each squeeze of the trigger I blew a hole in an infected's head, pausing to reload occasionally. The infected continued to rush forward in droves, only to be put down by our combined fire.

I was lining my sights up on one infected's head when a powerful scent suddenly pervaded my senses. It was thick, a cloying odor of blood, dirt, and… something else. I don't know what it was, but that smell overpowered everything else in my mind. It was… wrong. No, it wasn't wrong. It was foreign. It was a foreign scent, and it filled me with rage, sending a red filter over my vision. This was not the anger one usually feels, but something more primal, bestial. A growl grew in my throat, rising in volume, until it broke into an animal howl. I charged forward towards the scent, leaving my distracted teammates behind me. I followed the scent, only one thought in my head, to find that scent, and to destroy it. Tear it apart. _Consume it._ An image of spattering red flashed through my mind and I found myself grinning wolfishly.

I rounded the corner and finally found the source of the scent. There, crouching over the body of some unfortunate victim was one of the aptly named Hunters. The growl returned, and the Hunter snapped its head up in surprise, blood and gore dripping from its jaws, the rest of its face hidden by its hood. Upon seeing me, the Hunter leapt to its feet, turning towards me and snarling viciously. I returned the gesture, dropping my rifle and instinctively drawing my switchblade. A moment passed between us, the tension building to an unbearable level, until it was broken by the Hunter, who leapt at me with a vicious howl.

Having expected this, I was ready, and at the last possible second dived to the side, avoiding the Hunter's slashing claws. The Hunter was surprised, and tumbled to the ground, before quickly scrambling to its feet. I hissed at the Hunter, and brandished the knife. It growled in return, and lunged again. This time, rather than sidestep him, I braced myself and met it head on. The Hunter collided into me with the force of a speeding car. I was thrown off my feet and we tumbled head over heels, each attempting to gain leverage to bring our blades to bear. We rolled over and over, until I found myself on my back, the Hunter straddling me, raising its claws to strike. I lunged forward and hit first, thrusting my knife upward and into the Hunter's chest. The knife impacted the Hunter's chest, slashing into its skin but skidding off, leaving only a large gash and a new hole in its hoodie. I had hit one of the Hunter's ribs.

Thankfully the Hunter was still distracted by the blow, yelping in pain and jerking back. I took this opportunity to strike again, but the Hunter was prepared and shot a claw forward, grabbing my wrist in a bone-crushing grip. As it held my hand holding the knife in one claw, it raised the other to bring down into my stomach, its claws splayed like talons. I reacted quickly, bringing a fist up to sucker punch the Hunter in the jaw. The Hunter's head jerked back from the blow, and I took the opportunity to jerk upwards, ripping my hand free from its claws and throwing it from its perch atop my stomach. It fell to the ground, and I leapt to my feet.

The red haze faded slightly from my vision, and I took a quick stock of the situation as the Hunter scrambled to its feet as well. I was at a clear disadvantage. The Hunter was faster and stronger, and while I had only one blade, it had five on each hand. My knife could go deeper than its claws, though, which meant a stabbing motion was my best bet. However while the Hunter could punch a hole in my chest with one solid blow, I was unable to break through his ribs- I would have to get my knife between them if I hoped to do any serious damage.

Steeling myself, and allowing the red filter to once again claim my vision, I leapt towards the Hunter, tackling it to the ground and thrusting my blade forward blindly. I felt it sink into soft flesh, and heard the Hunter yelp in pain. With heavy jabbing motions, I withdrew the blade and sunk it back in, again and again, each blow drawing a howl of agony from the Hunter. I felt something sharp rake across my skin several times, but I felt nothing. The adrenaline had numbed me to a point that I was oblivious to the trauma I was receiving. We finally came to a stop, this time with me on top, the Hunter pinned below me. I was given a good look at the damage I had done as I raised the knife over my head, ready to land the killing blow.

The Hunter was a mess. Its stomach had been reduced to raw, bleeding hamburger, and I had managed to get a lucky thrust in between its ribs, puncturing one of its lungs and sending it into a wheezing fit. I looked upon the damage and felt something welling up within me. A sense of satisfaction more fulfilling than I had ever felt. At this moment, pinned atop this bleeding victim, and knowing that I had caused it, I was God. I was the best. I was the alpha male. With a twisted grin plastered on my face and a howl escaping my throat I brought the switchblade down, sinking the six-inch blade into his chest, past his ribs and straight to his heart. Blood erupted from the wound, spurting around the blade and coating my hands. I twisted the knife deeper, a satisfied growl starting deep in my throat, and gaining strength as the Hunter's life ebbed away. After about a minute, the Hunter's weak movements ceased, his entire body growing still as the last of its lifeblood flowed from its body. I stood over the new corpse, threw my head back, and released a piercing shriek that echoed through the city, a cry of victory to any and all that could hear.

Then suddenly, the red haze began to recede, the adrenaline flooding my system beginning to fade away. In that moment, all of my wounds caught up with me, and I sank to my knees, groaning in pain. My arms and legs burned from the fight, several places feeling as though a hot wire had been pressed to them, no doubt where the Hunter had managed to slash me with its claws. My chest was burning like I had run a marathon, each beat of my heart sending a tremor through my form and causing my many cuts to flare in pain, and for a moment I wished it would stop, if only to relieve me of this torture. Then, without warning, my hands brought forth a sudden burst of agony that drew a wracking sob from deep in my chest, causing me to drop my switchblade in shock. It felt as though my nails were being pushed out from the inside by jagged splinters, and I felt the warmth of my own blood beginning to pool around them, before spattering to the floor in steady drips. The pain continued for another minute, each second feeling like an eternity of torture. Then, slowly, the pain receded, and I collapsed in a moaning, sobbing heap into a mixed pool of the Hunter's and my own blood upon the ground. Eventually, the pain gave way to a cold numbness, and knew then that I was going to die. The wounds I had sustained from the Hunter were bleeding badly, and the pool of blood spreading around me was beginning to match that of the Hunter's. I lifted my head feebly to look at the Hunter, and only then realized what I had just done.

I had torn the Hunter apart. Its chest was spread like a murder victim in a morgue, my vicious wrenching of the knife having split its ribs like dry twigs. Its guts had spilled from its stomach, hanging out like grisly streamers. Finally, there was the blood, more than seemingly possible, it leaked from the Hunter in a steady stream, adding to the growing puddle surrounding it. Unable to look directly at the scene, I cast my gaze upward, to the Hunter's face. It was frozen in terror, the last emotion the Infected had managed to convey, and its hood had slipped slightly, revealing its eyes, or lack thereof. I drew in a sharp breath as I saw that the Hunter's eyes were missing, the only thing remaining being a pair of ragged sockets, caked with dried blood and casting a deep shadow, giving the impression of its sockets being endless pools of blackness. Unable to face the scene before me, I turned my head to the other side, clenching my eyes shut as hard as I could.

As I waited to die, I was interrupted as I began to feel a sense of rage build up in me again. It wasn't like last time, though. My anger wasn't directed towards the Hunter. It was directed towards myself. I wouldn't let myself lose after coming so close to victory. _I_ _WOULD NOT_ _DIE HERE_. The warmth of this fury began to spread to the rest of my body, flooding it with heat and driving out any of the numbness I had felt before. The pain returned full force, and I moaned pathetically. But the rage would have none of it; it screamed in my head to get to my feet and stand tall, and, to my amazement, I began to comply. Gritting my teeth at the torment, I sat up, and slowly got to my feet. As I pushed myself up, however, I heard an unfamiliar clicking noise coming from my hands. I slowly lifted them in front of my face, and gasped in shock.

Through the blood caking my hands, I saw that they had been changed, mutated into something terrifying. Sprouting from each fingertip was a pointed, sharpened claw, each capable of cutting into flesh and bone with ease. I closed my eyes and clapped my new claws to my head, ignoring the pain as my nails dug into my scalp, drawing blood. There was no doubt in my mind now. I was infected. These claws could only be the result of the Green Flu, and I knew exactly where I had seen them before. They were on the Hunter I had just killed. I was becoming one of them, no doubt from the bite I had received earlier. As this realization slowly sank in, I began to wonder what would happen to me. I had seen the virus change someone firsthand and it had taken only minutes. I had been bitten about an hour ago, and yet the only things to change were my hands, and, I realized with a tightening sensation in my gut, my legs. Surely if I were to completely turn, it would have happened by now? Perhaps I was at least partially immune, like the others. They had all been bitten, long before we even met, and yet they were fine. Maybe I was like them, except rather than fully immune only partially? It was my only hope, and I clung to it without a second thought. I was partially immune. I was safe. I would not fully turn.

Filled with a new determination, I collected myself and grabbed my dropped switchblade, clicking it closed and storing it in my pocket, doing my best to ignore the blood that caked every inch of its surface. I then moved outside of the gory scene and grabbed my rifle, which thankfully lay a good distance away from the blood. As I slung it on my back, I suddenly realized how the others would react if they saw me as I was now. If they saw my claws, I was dead. Francis already was suspicious of me, and would no doubt gun me down at the first sight of them. Bill and Louis were practical, and I knew that while they would in no way enjoy it, they would shoot me should they realize I was at least partially infected. Then there was Zoey. She was the youngest member of our group, and the first to offer aid to someone in need, the event with the crying infected being an excellent example. However, I could tell by looking at her that she was just as experienced in mercy killings as I was. If she thought I was going to turn, she wouldn't hesitate. That thought filled me with more sadness than I expected, but I ignored it. I would have to hide it from them, I decided. If I was right and I wasn't going to turn, it would save my life. If I was wrong… I wouldn't have to worry about it anyway.

_But the others will._ A voice in my head responded, its accusatory tone filling me with guilt. _If you really are going to turn, you'll be a liability. You could kill one of them, and then what?_ I shook it off. If I did turn, the others could handle it. I would be dead before I could really do any damage. _You don't know that._ The voice hissed. _If you turn during a horde rush, you could get them all killed. You could turn in your sleep, and kill whoever was unlucky enough to wake you._ I groaned and clutched my head, this time paying careful attention not to cut myself with my claws. The voice was right, if I turned at the wrong moment… I shook my head. No, that wouldn't happen, because I was immune, dammit! I am not going to turn completely.

With this in mind, I collected myself and began to consider how to hide myself from the others. I would definitely have to hide my hands, maybe with gloves. Until then, though what should I do? I had to get back to them soon, no doubt they had noticed my disappearance by now and were looking for me. If I didn't hurry I would be left behind, presumed dead. I cast my gaze back to the Hunter and got an idea. I slowly made my way over to the corpse and took out my knife, fumbling slightly with my new claws. After getting a firm grip on the knife, I brought it down and began to cut strips away from the Hunter's blood-drenched hoodie. I quickly cut two long strips out of the fabric, and took them, pocketing my knife and stepping away from the corpse. Using the strips, I wrapped them thickly about my hands, until they covered them in a layer of wrappings, forming a pair of rudimentary mittens and hiding my claws form view. I took care to leave my right index finger free, thus allowing me to continue to fire my rifle. I prayed the others wouldn't notice it.

With my claws successfully hidden, I drew my rifle and made my way back down the street, retracing my steps as best I could given my rage-induced state previously. Eventually I began to hear shouts and, after a moment, recognized them as my comrades, all shouting my name. Quickening my pace, I rounded a corner and caught sight of them. They had indeed finished off the horde even without my assistance; infected bodies lined the street, and the scent of gunpowder still hung in the air. Bill, Louis, Zoey, and Francis had apparently holed up in the entrance of the subway station, standing by the steps but refusing to go inside. Their dedication brought a smile to my face and, as quickly as I could with my wounds, I hastened toward them. Francis turned towards me, his eyes widening in surprise. I froze however as he raised his shotgun, pumping the slide and racking a shell into the chamber.

I stopped running and threw my hands up in surrender, crying in alarm as Francis' aim centered on my head. "Hey, Francis! It's me, Tom! Hold your fire!" Francis paused, looking over his shotgun's sights to get a better look at me. After a moment, a relieved expression broke his features and he lowered the shotgun, grinning. The others turned toward me as well, and upon seeing me gave various expressions of relief. Francis was the first to reach me, and clapped a hand on my shoulder, saying, "Tom, you made it! Jesus, I thought you were one of those vampires for a second, you look like shit!" Confused by both his summary of my appearance and his use of the word "vampire" I looked down, and immediately realized what he meant. I was covered from head to toe in blood, and I still had several gashes leaking fresh blood into my clothes, suffusing them with a red dampness and a sharp iron smell. I chuckled nervously, and responded, "Yeah, I feel like it too. What'd I miss?" Bill had reached us now, and frowned at me, saying, "A hell of a fight, that's what. Where were you?" I jerked my head back in the direction I had come, and replied, "Another one of those Hunters. Dragged me off, but I managed to kill it." Louis and Zoey now approached, each giving me a look of concern. "You look bad, man." Louis said worriedly. "We should get to the safe house and heal you up."

I nodded in agreement. "Right, lets-" I was unable to finish my thought as a flash of pain lanced up my form, beginning in my legs and moving up through my chest. It was intense, a feeling of burning like someone had pressed hot wire to my legs, and was dragging it up my body, occasionally digging in and eliciting a gasp from my mouth and tears from my eyes. I pitched forward, and was caught by Bill and Francis, who each placed an arm under my own, lifting me on their shoulders. Bill gave my wounds a glance from his position at my side, and began barking orders to the others. "He's hurt bad, lets keep moving, safe house is just inside." The others nodded, and we made our way down the steps of the subway entrance and into the safe house, Louis and Zoey leading the way as Bill and Francis helped me hobble along behind them.

We made it into the safe house, apparently a storeroom with an adjoining bathroom to one side, and Bill and Francis lead me to one of the tables, clearing it of whatever random junk was on it and allowing me to collapse onto it. I rolled onto my back and groaned as the pain continued to burn, sending wracking tremors throughout my form.

Zoey stepped forward, a medkit already in hand, and began to inspect my wounds. "These cuts are deep." She said, taking some gauze from the pack and measuring out a long section for a bandage. "We need to get pressure on them quick before he bleeds out." The others nodded, and Francis moved forward to press his hands on one of the deeper cuts on my leg, holding it closed while simultaneously holding back the flow of blood that continued to leak from the wound. Louis did the same on another leg wound, while Bill worked on covering one on my chest. Louis cocked his head in confusion, his hands pressing hard on the weeping cut in front of him. "His skin is hot." He commented confusedly. "Real hot." Having measured out three bandages for the worst of the wounds, Zoey moved forward and began to wrap them around the cuts, gently moving the others' hands away from them before wrapping them tightly. She looked to Louis and said, "We can worry about infection later, for now we need to stop the bleeding."

At the mention of "infection" the other three winced, and gave me varying looks of concern, not that I noticed. I was too busy panting and sweating, fighting from crying out from the pain of both my wounds and the terrible burning sensation that continued to spread throughout my form. It moved over me like a wave, slowly receding from my legs and moving deeper into my chest, before finally making its way into my head. I couldn't help it, I screamed. The pain was worse than any headache I had ever experienced, it felt like someone was trying to split my skull down the center with a burning wooden stake, small splinters of agony digging into my brain like red-hot needles. My eyes were the worst, they seemed to be boiling within their sockets, forcing me to clench my eyelids shut and moan pitifully. The last thing I heard before passing out was Zoey's muffled voice, her shouts of concern lost to my fading consciousness.


	3. Nightmare

I was floating, blind, through a sea of darkness. The darkness seeped into my very being, sapping my strength and slowing my movements. I thrashed wildly, fighting the lethargy that was taking over my form. Unfortunately, the darkness was strong, and I soon found myself overwhelmed. I slowly ceased my struggles, growing still and getting ready to submit myself to the darkness.

Then, out of nowhere, a pinprick of light breaks through the blackness. It lay ahead of me, a beacon in the darkness. The light seemed to suffuse my form, filling me with strength. With a renewed sense of vigor, I fought against the pull of the darkness. The light's energizing light served well in giving me strength, as I fought through the darkness' pull. I drew closer and closer to the light, and soon it was almost in arms reach. I extended my arm, hoping to touch the light, to feel that warmth from the source.

Suddenly, I felt a stinging pain pierce my chest, as the darkness once again wrapped itself around me. I began thrashing in its grip yet again, but it was all for naught. I was pulled back, falling into the black.

Then, all at once, the grip released, and I landed harshly on my back. Hissing in pain, I groaned and rolled over, slowly pushing myself to my feet. Looking up, I tried to make sense of my surroundings. The light from before still streamed down upon me, as its source hung in the air like a miniature sun. The light illuminated the area before me, and I found myself staring open-mouthed in shock.

Two figures were locked in a fierce battle before me, each clad in an identical set of clothes. The ensemble of hunting boots, jeans, and a grey hoodie was unmistakably the same outfit I had unfortunately found myself wearing for all of the last week, and was currently garbed in now. The only difference between the two it seemed, was that while one had the hood clamped firmly over his head, hiding his face in shadow, the other had it pulled back, revealing him to the world.

At least, that was the only difference I saw until I looked upon the hooded figure's hands. Rather than the familiar human hands of the unhooded figure, the hooded one had a set of fierce, blood-soaked claws.

Despite this obvious advantage, the two seemed to be locked in a stalemate, grappling roughly with neither of the two succeeding in overpowering the other. Currently, the unhooded figure was pinned beneath the hooded one, who attempted to bring his claws down into the unhooded one's flesh, but the unhooded one held him at bay, keeping a secure hold on the hooded one's wrists and preventing it from bringing its claws to bear. I observed the battle with a detached sense of surrealism. That is, until the two simultaneously turned their gazes to me. The unhooded figure's expression turned to one of alarm, while the hooded figure snarled, baring rows of pointed teeth.

I staggered back from as hooded figure snarled, before tearing himself away from the unhooded figure, and launching himself at me. I had no time to react before the hooded figure was on top of me. I screamed as the hooded figure snarled, tackling me to the ground and pinning me. It raised a claw to begin tearing into my flesh, and I continued screaming as its claw came down.

Then, before the hooded figure could land a blow upon me, it was pulled back, as the unhooded figure gripped it by the shoulders, yanking it off of me and throwing it back. Then, he grabbed a handful of my hoodie's collar, before hauling me to my feet. "Are you alright?" he asked urgently, in a voice that was far too familiar. I looked up, and gasped at what I saw.

The man's face was identical to my own.

"What…" I asked, dumbfounded. "Who… Who are you?"

The man flashed a grin. "Just call me Will." He glanced at my body and, satisfied that I was unhurt, turned his gaze to the hooded figure, who was by now recovering and snarling aggressively. Tensing, he brought his fists up into a fighting stance, and shot a look back towards me. "Just stay here, I'll handle this."

With that, he lunged forward yet again, the hooded creature meeting him head on as the two collided heavily. They rolled along the ground, Will launching punches at every available surface as the hooded creature responded with slashes and bites. Again, they looked evenly matched, until with one fateful strike the hooded creature slashed across Will's face, forcing him to cry out in pain. Capitalizing on its advantage, the hooded creature threw Will to the ground, pinning him just as he had done to me moments earlier. This time though, there was no one to save him. I was frozen where Will had left me, too terrified to move, all the while for cursing myself as I could only watch Will being trapped. As the creature brought its claws down, carving through Will's gut with several harsh slashes. "No!" I cried, sprinting forward, my body finally freed of its paralysis as rage surged through my mind.

Sprinting forward, I took a short windup before lashing my foot forward, punting the hooded creature's head like a football. My foot impacted the creature's head with a loud _thud_, and the hooded creature was lifted off its feet, before landing in a heap several feet away. Wasting no time to check if the creature was dead or simply stunned, I dropped down, hoping to inspect Will's wounds. What I saw again caused my jaw to drop open in shock.

Will was badly hurt. His face and abdomen were covered in vicious cuts, and his breathing was clearly labored. But what drew my attention were the wounds themselves. Rather than the blood and gore that should have wept freely from the wounds, they instead bled a blinding, pure white glow. I winced as the light threatened to burn my eyes in their sockets. Ignoring the sight in favor of helping Will I clamped my hands down over the wounds, hoping to put pressure on them and stop the "bleeding." As I did my best to cover the massive wound, I looked to Will's face, my confusion clear in my expression. Will met my gaze, and I saw that he had tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry." He said remorsefully. "I'm so, so sorry. I thought I could do it. I thought I could face him. But I can't. I… I'm just not strong enough."

"No… No! Just hang on, I've got you!" I answered urgently. "I can help you, you're not going anywhere!" I don't know why, but I felt the most terrible sense of dread, like if I lost Will, I would be losing everything.

Will, however, simply smiled sadly in response. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here. I'll survive." His voice suddenly grew stern as he continued, "But Tom, you need to listen to me." I looked to him in bewilderment, and he went on, "The other one, the… Hunter. You can't let him win. You need to kill him."

I frowned. "What do you mean? Why do I have to kill him?" I asked.

Will's response was grave. "If it lives, if you don't end it now, then you'll lose yourself. You need to stop him. Now." Will gasped in pain, as the light within him flickered suddenly. "You need to act fast." He grunted. "It's almost complete."

With that, Will fell back, closing his eyes as his breathing continued shakily. "Wait!" I cried, releasing the wound on his stomach to clutch his shoulders urgently. "Please! I don't understand!" Unfortunately, Will gave no response, and instead I was answered with a low growl.

Whipping my gaze around, I found the Hunter, crouched and ready to spring. I tensed, and the Hunter leapt forward. The Hunter became a blur as it slammed into my chest, sending both of us rolling, just as he had with Will. Reacting faster than I thought possible, I fell back with the hit, landing hard before lifting my legs and planting them on the Hunter's stomach. Then, with a thrust of both legs, I kicked the Hunter off of me, sending it flying through the air, to land with a yelp several feet behind me.

Wasting no time I roll over and push myself to my feet, keeping low as I observed the Hunter. It too had recovered, and was almost to its feet. I wasted no time, sprinting forward. In a moment, I was upon it. I kicked it, like before, this time aiming for its ribs. My boot, and its thick leather toe hit it in the side, just beneath the armpit. I feel the bone give beneath my strike, my boot sinking that extra inch as the rib bent inward.

Then, the Hunter was pushed back, the force of my kick catching up to its body as it flipped it over onto its back. I fall forward, resting my knees on its chest as I wrap my hands around its throat. I press down, tightening my grip as I put my weight into my arms. The Hunter gagged, coughing as it kicked its legs and flailed its arms. It reaches up, and grasps my wrists. It gives a sharp tug, hoping to pull my hands from its throat. It fails, and its claws slip from my wrists, digging into the flesh and nicking bone in one arm. I gasp, but ignore it as I throttle the Hunter, bashing its head against the ground once, hoping to disorient it. I fail, as the Hunter uses my moment of shock to suck in a short breath. I curse, again tightening my grip, despite half my left hand being unresponsive. I dig my fingers into its throat, and am surprised as flesh gives way and warmth flows over my fingers. The Hunter coughs again, this time causing a spurt of black, viscous fluid to gurgle up from its throat. I don't think, I simply dig in deeper, until my pointed fingertips tap together inside the Hunter's neck. I clench my fists, and feel the soaked, slippery tissue trapped against my palms.

With a yell, I pull my hands back just as I shove myself away from the Hunter, dragging the tissue of its throat along with me. Black liquid spurts up like an inky fountain, following me as I landed on my rear. One jet of the "blood" covered my face and seeped into my eyes. I gave a feral snarl as a burning sensation erupted in my eyeballs, instinctively clutching at the pained sockets. The pain was intense; my eyes burned as though the black liquid were acid. I got to my feet, still rubbing angrily at my eyes, all the while releasing a series of hisses and growls as the pain overran my senses.

As my thoughts began to dim from the sheer agony I was feeling, I felt the overpowering desire to simply dig my claws into my eyes, tearing them out in a sheer desperate effort to ease the pain. Thankfully, a small part of my mind remained lucid enough to resist the urge, settling instead for simply working my knuckles deeper into my sockets, hoping desperately that sheer friction would work out the vile substance.

While I was distracted by the pain in my eyes, I failed to notice the sensation of the black liquid that had coated the rest of my body, and was now seeping through my clothes like water into soil, until it passed through the fabric and made contact with my skin, at which point it drew my attention by latching on with the sensation of dozens of fires igniting all over my body. I howled in pain, releasing my face in favor of swatting and clawing at my body, attempting to quell the invisible flames, as they spread throughout my form.

As the pain became too intense to bear, I felt myself pitch forward and land harshly on the hard ground beneath me. As I lay there, whimpering pathetically and shaking from the choked sobs that wracked my form, I felt the burning sensation move deeper, penetrating my body to attack my very soul. I screamed, both physically and mentally, as the burning seemed ready to consume my very being.

Then, be it some outside force or a sudden burst of my own effort, I felt the burning retract, like a wounded animal, as a sudden burst of force drove it off. Deep in my mind, a voice called out. In a deep growl, so low that I was amazed that I could hear it at all, it said, _"I have not. Come here. To die now."_

Then, the burst of force surged with power, growing exponentially stronger as it expanded outward from my form, blasting the burning sensation back and freeing me of its agonizing embrace. I took a moment to revel in my relief, before I succumbed to the pain and fell into darkness.

* * *

When the pain I had unfortunately come to associate with regaining consciousness came, I was pleasantly surprised to find that it had weakened to a simple dull ache. The piercing, all-encompassing pain that had dominated my body was now muted, allowing me to collect my thoughts much faster than before. Therefore, it was easy for me to make out the conversation that seemed to be taking place within moments of awakening.

"-'s gone, you two. We can either take care of him now, or leave and let him hunt us down later. Let's just put him out of his misery now, while we can."

"Dammit, Francis! We can't just put him down like some animal! I can't, I _won't_ do this again!"

"I'm not asking you to! Just get out of my way!"

The shouting continued, and I was soon able to recognize the voices as Francis and Zoey. I could only guess what they were talking about, but the sneaking suspicion I had filled me with dread. I cracked my eyes open, only to clamp them shut as the light burned my eyes, causing me to release and involuntary hiss.

Unfortunately, this alerted the others to the fact that I was awake. "Oh shit!" Louis exclaimed. "He's awake!"

There was the sound of shuffling as the others backed away from me. I heard their conversations drop into muted whispers, and quickly ignored them. Instead I turned my attention to the uncomfortable position I found myself in. I was seated, with my arms bent behind my back and bound together. It didn't take me long to realize the others had tied me to a chair. I pulled against the binds, and hissed again as the rope dug into the raw flesh of my wrists. I continued to struggle, but the ropes held fast.

The others' conversation grew louder, and I was able to make out their words again. "Just look at him, Zoey. He's gone. Whatever that thing is, it isn't Tom. We leave it alive, and we're just putting the rest of us in danger."

When Zoey's voice answered, it was full of desperation. "Francis, please. We can't do this, it isn't right. We don't even know if he's one of them."

"Are you fucking kidding me, Zoey?" Francis asked incredulously. "Just look at him! He's just like that thing that attacked Louis!"

"But-" Zoey started, before she was cut off by Francis.

"No. No excuses, we're ending this now, while we still can." I heard a series of muted thumps as Francis approached me, followed by the loud _click-clack_ of him racking his shotgun.

I shuddered as I realized what was coming, turning my head up to face Francis, my eyes still shut firmly against the light. I tried calling out to him, to tell him to stop. Unfortunately, my attempts only succeeded in producing a raspy growl, as my throat burned from the effort.

Thankfully, Francis seemed to be hesitating, and I capitalized on this chance, trying again to tell him to stop. "Fffrrrnnsss." I rasped, coughing throatily. Fighting back the soreness in my throat, I tried again. "Frrrancissss." I heard a gasp, from both Francis and the others, and continued, "Don't. Sssstill herrre." My voice was deep and rough, interspersed with growls and hisses. Nevertheless, it seemed to get the point across, as I heard someone approaching Francis and I.

"Francis, stop!" Zoey cried, rushing forward. I heard a grunt as she shoved Francis aside, then felt her rest her hands on my shoulders as she crouched down before me. "Tom? Tom, is that you? Are you in there?"

"Zoey?" I asked. "What's going on? Why… why am I tied up? What happened?" I already knew the answer, but I was praying that maybe I was wrong; desperate for any possibility besides the one I was faced with.

Zoey's grim response however, confirmed my fears. "You were bitten, Tom. You were infected. We were patching up your wounds when… you started changing, turning into one of those things. I didn't think you would come back, none of us did." I absorbed her words, a growing panic building up within me. My breaths became short and I flexed my hands behind me, feeling the claws digging into my palms… I felt a pressure building in my chest, and quashed the urge to burst into tears as the reality of my situation hit me. I was changed, mutated. I was Infected.

Zoey must have seen my distress, because I felt her grip on my shoulders tighten. Her voice took on a motherly tone as she continued, "Hey, hey, it's okay. You're okay. You're still here, right? It's gonna be alright, I promise." I said nothing, and she continued more forcefully, "Look at me, Tom. Open your eyes."

I choked back tears, muttering, "I can't."

"Why not?" She asked. If I could see her, I expect she would be cocking her head to the side curiously.

"The light." I explained. "It hurts, I can't-" I fought back the urge to sob again. "It's too bright." Zoey said nothing in response, and I imagined she was looking back towards the others nervously.

I felt Zoey's hands leave my shoulders as she stood back up. She stepped away for a moment, leaving me with my thoughts. I heard the others speaking to her, but once again their voices were hushed, and I heard nothing. Instead I wondered what they were going to do with me. My earlier predictions drifted back into my mind, and I felt myself shudder. Surely this would be different, right? I'm still human in mind, for whatever reason. They wouldn't shoot me, not as long as I can still think.

But why could I still think? I must have been bitten hours ago by now. If my mind was going to go, it would have gone by now. I'd seen a person turn, and it was a matter of minutes, not hours. Of course, I don't know if it was different with the Hunters, given that they were a little more mutated than most of the Infected. _No, no, no!_ I thought angrily, shaking my head. _I am not one of them! I'm still here, and that isn't going to change!_ Despite my reassurances, I still felt that small bit of uncertainty, eating away at me like a drop of acid deep inside me.

It was clear that whether my mind was affected or not, my body had been radically altered. I didn't have to see myself to feel some f the drastic changes. The burning in my legs had increased to the point that it felt like my pants had been set alight. Despite this, I couldn't argue that they felt immeasurably stronger, no doubt to let me make the massive leaps that the Hunter had before. Flexing my hands, I felt my new claws digging into my palms, leaving small punctures and making me suck in a breath as the pain assaulted my brain. Loosening my grip, I instead focused my attention on my teeth. When I had been talking, I had been able to tell that my teeth had been changed just as the rest of my body had. Poking at them with my tongue, I was able to get a sense of their new shape, ignoring the pain in my gums that made me feel like I had brushed with a 2X4. My teeth were sharp and jagged, with an obvious serration meant to cut into flesh as efficiently as possible. They were the teeth of a predator.

Any further inspection was interrupted as I sensed someone approaching again. I heard a rustle as they settled into a crouch in front of me. Then I felt something brushing against my temples, before settling on my face. I shook my head, confusedly trying to figure out what had just put on me. "It's okay, Tom." Zoey's voice reassured me. "Open your eyes."

I hesitated, but eventually complied, slowly cracking my eyes open to find Zoey kneeling before me, a small smile on her face. Everything in my vision had a darker tint to it, and in a moment I realized what I was now wearing. "Sunglasses…" I breathed, raising a brow. Focusing on Zoey, I asked, "Where'd these come from?"

Zoey chuckled. "You can thank Francis for those. He was happy to donate them for the cause." I looked past her to see Francis glaring at me, and chuckled. Wearing a hoodie and sunglasses in the middle of a well-lit room? I probably looked pretty fucking stupid.

Leaning to the side around Zoey, I called out to Francis, "Really Francis? You just carry around a pair of sunglasses? Um, David Caruso called, he wants his bit back." There was a pregnant moment where everyone seemed to take in my words, before Louis cracked up laughing. A moment later, Zoey and I joined in, and Francis failed to hide a chuckle.

Suddenly realizing something was missing, I looked around, searching for a certain crazy Namvet. "Where's Bill?" I asked.

I was answered by a the noise of a match being struck from behind me, and twisted in my seat to find Bill, sitting on a crate behind me, lighting up a cigarette. Lying in his lap was his trusty M16, and it was quite clear that a moment ago it had been in his hands, most likely pointing at me. I felt a chill as Bill snuffed the match, taking a drag on his cigarette before looking towards me with an unreadable expression.

Turning back towards Zoey, I found her looking at me with a nervous expression, like she was worried I would be offended. Frankly, I understood. I was just glad they didn't put a bullet in me sooner. Hopefully now though, they would know I wasn't about to attack them. "Um, I don't want to sound whiny or anything," I began, grinning awkwardly, "but these ropes are starting to chafe, so…" I left the sentence open, my eyes pleading. Zoey regarded me with an apologetic expression, before she looked past me toward Bill. Her eyes were questioning, and I quickly realized my fate would be in the old man's hands.

I heard Bill get up from behind me, before he stepped around me and into my vision. He regarded me with an inscrutable expression for a few moments, his rifle held loosely in his grip. I did my best not to look at it, and instead met his gaze as best I could. For a moment, I wondered if my eyes had changed too, ignoring the sunglasses that adorned my face. My thoughts were interrupted as Bill finally spoke. "Before we do anything, son, we need to know that you aren't going to try an kill one of us. We need to know that this is as bad as you're gonna get." His tone was solemn, but I could detect the threat within, and I nodded meekly.

"Well, I promise, I don't feel any different. Besides the obvious, I mean. You- You're not going to leave me here, are you?" The others all looked to Bill, who remained silent, giving me a contemplative look. For a moment, I worried that he might decide to leave me. I knew he wouldn't kill me, not while I was still me. However, I wasn't too keen on being left here, waiting to either starve or get executed by the next group of survivors to make their way into the safehouse.

Finally though, Bill shook his head. "No one gets left behind." He said, and I felt myself sigh in relief. "We don't know if you're going to turn any further, and we can't wait to find out, so we're just going to have to risk it. But I might as well tell you Tom, that I'm going to be keeping an eye on you. I don't know if you're immune or what, but as of right now you are a liability. If you think you might start to lose control, you need to let us know." His expression grew stern as he added, "Can I trust you to do that?"

I swallowed heavily, understanding the implications. Nevertheless, I answered, "I understand, Bill. I wouldn't put any of you in danger just to save myself. Especially if I would just be living as one of those… things." I met Bill's gaze determinedly. "You can trust me."

Bill said nothing, simply searching my expression for any signs of deceit. Eventually, he seemed satisfied, and stood up, shouldering his rifle. Turning towards the others, he began relaying orders. "Zoey, cut Tom loose and get him on his feet. Francis, get Tom his guns and make sure he's kitted out. Louis, come with me, we're gonna go make sure the outside is clear. Move it, people!"

The others nodded, before snapping into action. Zoey stepped behind me, drawing out a knife and quickly cutting through my binds. Once my hands were freed, I brought them before me, rubbing my chafed wrists to help get back some circulation. Moving to my side, Zoey bent down in preparation to help me to my feet, but I waved her off. My legs were sore and partially numb, but nevertheless I had no trouble getting to my feet. I cricked my neck, producing a series of small pops. Giving Zoey a grateful smile, I opened my mouth to articulate my thanks but was cut off as Francis approached.

The biker tossed me my revolver, which I caught and smoothly slipped into its holster with a practiced motion, before handing my rifle towards me, his expression unreadable. I accepted the rifle, cocking it and grinning as the satisfying _click-clack_ assured me it was loaded. I turned my grin towards Francis, but faltered as I saw his expression tense. Suddenly remembering my newly developed fangs, I clamped my mouth shut, giving him an apologetic shrug.

He said nothing, and moved to where Bill and Louis had left the safehouse, and a series of gunshots could be heard as they cleared out the area outside the door. Zoey hesitated, then followed, sparing me a rueful glance before following Francis out the door. I watched them go, and was about to follow, when something out of the corner of my eye caught my attention.

The saferoom was small, and square shaped, with a small rectangular tail leading to the door that I assume we had first entered from. Next to it was another door, however this one was cracked open, revealing a small bathroom within. My eyes were immediately drawn to the sliver of mirror that was revealed through the small opening, and I was sorely tempted to walk over to it, and to get a better look at my new form.

A series of gunshots and the screams of the Infected interrupted my thoughts, and I heard Francis holler, "Tom! Move your ass, we're not going to wait for you!" I cast one last glance towards the bathroom, before turning away. Sighing, I readied my rifle and charged after my friends. Whatever changes I may have gone through, they didn't matter now. My friends needed me.

* * *

Author's Note: Okay, so I guess I'm finally updating this, huh? Yeah, I kinda dropped this story for a while after my other story, The Noble Guardians, kinda took off. But I'm back in the saddle with this one, and I don't intend to abandon it. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and know that this story isn't Left 4 Dead!

…

…Yeah, that's a bad pun. I REGRET NOTHING!

Peace!


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